William Shakespeare

All's Well That Ends Well

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ACT IV

SCENE I. Without the Florentine camp.

   Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other Soldiers in ambush

   Second Lord

   He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon

   him, speak what terrible language you will: though you understand it

   not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him,

   unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter.

   First Soldier

   Good captain, let me be the interpreter.

   Second Lord

   Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice?

   First Soldier

   No, sir, I warrant you.

   Second Lord

   But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again?

   First Soldier

   E'en such as you speak to me.

   Second Lord

   He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's

   entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages;

   therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what

   we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our

   purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you,

   interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes,

   to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies

   he forges.

   Enter Parolles

   Parolles

   Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home.

   What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that

   carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked

   too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart

   hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the

   reports of my tongue.

   Second Lord

   This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of.

   Parolles

   What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum,

   being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such

   purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit:

   yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, `Came you off with so

   little?' and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the

   instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth and buy

   myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.

   Second Lord

   Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?

   Parolles

   I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the

   breaking of my Spanish sword.

   Second Lord

   We cannot afford you so.

   Parolles

   Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem.

   Second Lord

   'Twould not do.

   Parolles

   Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.

   Second Lord

   Hardly serve.

   Parolles

   Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel.

   Second Lord

   How deep?

   Parolles

   Thirty fathom.

   Second Lord

   Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.

   Parolles

   I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear I recovered it.

   Second Lord

   You shall hear one anon.

   Parolles

   A drum now of the enemy's,--

   Alarum within

   Second Lord

   Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.

   All

   Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo.

   Parolles

   O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes.

   They seize and blindfold him

   First Soldier

   Boskos thromuldo boskos.

   Parolles

   I know you are the Muskos' regiment:

   And I shall lose my life for want of language;

   If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch,

   Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll

   Discover that which shall undo the Florentine.

   First Soldier

   Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely

   bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy

   bosom.

   Parolles

   O!

   First Soldier

   O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche.

   Second Lord

   Oscorbidulchos volivorco.

   First Soldier

   The general is content to spare thee yet;

   And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on

   To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform

   Something to save thy life.

   Parolles

   O, let me live!

   And all the secrets of our camp I'll show,

   Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that

   Which you will wonder at.

   First Soldier

   But wilt thou faithfully?

   Parolles

   If I do not, damn me.

   First Soldier

   Acordo linta.

   Come on; thou art granted space.

   Exit, with Parolles guarded. A short alarum within

   Second Lord

   Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother,

   We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled

   Till we do hear from them.

   Second Soldier

   Captain, I will.

   Second Lord

   A' will betray us all unto ourselves:

   Inform on that.

   Second Soldier

     So I will, sir.

   Second Lord

   Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd.

   Exeunt

SCENE II. Florence. The Widow's house.

   Enter Bertram and Diana

   Bertram

   They told me that your name was Fontibell.

   Diana

   No, my good lord, Diana.

   Bertram

   Titled goddess;

   And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul,

   In your fine frame hath love no quality?

   If quick fire of youth light not your mind,

   You are no maiden, but a monument:

   When you are dead, you should be such a one

   As you are now, for you are cold and stem;

   And now you should be as your mother was

   When your sweet self was got.

   Diana

   She then was honest.

   Bertram

   So should you be.

   Diana

   No:

   My mother did but duty; such, my lord,

   As you owe to your wife.

   Bertram

   No more o' that;

   I prithee, do not strive against my vows:

   I was compell'd to her; but I love thee

   By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever

   Do thee all rights of service.

   Diana

   Ay, so you serve us

   Till we serve you; but when you have our roses,

   You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves

   And mock us with our bareness.

   Bertram

   How have I sworn!

   Diana

   'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth,

   But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.

   What is not holy, that we swear not by,

   But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me,

   If I should swear by God's great attributes,

   I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths,

   When I did love you ill? This has no holding,

   To swear by him whom I protest to love,

   That I will work against him: therefore your oaths

   Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd,

   At least in my opinion.

   Bertram

   Change it, change it;

   Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy;

   And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts

   That you do charge men with. Stand no more off,

   But give thyself unto my sick desires,

   Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever

   My love as it begins shall so persever.

   Diana

   I see that men make ropes in such a scarre

   That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.

   Bertram

   I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power

   To give it from me.

   Diana

   Will you not, my lord?

   Bertram

   It is an honour 'longing to our house,

   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;

   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world

   In me to lose.

   Diana

     Mine honour's such a ring:

   My chastity's the jewel of our house,

   Bequeathed down from many ancestors;

   Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world

   In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom

   Brings in the champion Honour on my part,

   Against your vain assault.

   Bertram

   Here, take my ring:

   My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine,

   And I'll be bid by thee.

   Diana

   When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window:

   I'll order take my mother shall not hear.

   Now will I charge you in the band of truth,

   When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed,

   Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me:

   My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them

   When back again this ring shall be deliver'd:

   And on your finger in the night I'll put

   Another ring, that what in time proceeds

   May token to the future our past deeds.

   Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won

   A wife of me, though there my hope be done.

   Bertram

   A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.

   Exit

   Diana

   For which live long to thank both heaven and me!

   You may so in the end.

   My mother told me just how he would woo,

   As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men

   Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me

   When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him

   When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid,

   Marry that will, I live and die a maid:

   Only in this disguise I think't no sin

   To cozen him that would unjustly win.

   Exit

SCENE III. The Florentine camp.

   Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers

   First Lord

   You have not given him his mother's letter?

   Second Lord

   I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in't that stings

   his nature; for on the reading it he changed almost into another man.

   First Lord

   He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife

   and so sweet a lady.

   Second Lord

   Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king,

   who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you

   a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you.

   First Lord

   When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it.

   Second Lord

   He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most

   chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her

   honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made

   in the unchaste composition.

   First Lord

   Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, what things are we!

   Second Lord

   Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons,

   we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred

   ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in

   his proper stream o'erflows himself.

   First Lord

   Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful

   intents? We shall not then have his company to-night?

   Second Lord

   Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour.

   First Lord

   That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see his company

   anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein

   so curiously he had set this counterfeit.

   Second Lord

   We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the

   whip of the other.

   First Lord

   In the mean time, what hear you of these wars?

   Second Lord

   I hear there is an overture of peace.

   First Lord

   Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.

   Second Lord

   What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return

   again into France?

   First Lord

   I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council.

   Second Lord

   Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act.

   First Lord

   Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house: her pretence

   is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with

   most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the

   tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a

   groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

   Second Lord

   How is this justified?

   First Lord

   The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true,

   even to the point of her death: her death itself, which could not be

   her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of

   the place.

   Second Lord

   Hath the count all this intelligence?

   First Lord

   Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, so to the full

   arming of the verity.

   Second Lord

   I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this.

   First Lord

   How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses!

   Second Lord

   And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great

   dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be

   encountered with a shame as ample.

   First Lord

   The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our

   virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes

   would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.

   Enter a Messenger

   How now! where's your master?